


K.O.

by FoxLight



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: F/M, Medical Trauma, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26107960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxLight/pseuds/FoxLight
Summary: Strickler ends up in the hospital, and guess who's on staff that evening?
Relationships: Barbara Lake/Walter Strickler | Stricklander
Comments: 10
Kudos: 98





	K.O.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on rumors of a lost scene...

“Dr. Yen is getting off his shift a little early,” Wanda walked into the hospital break room where Barbara sat at the table, phone in hand, drinking a glass of water while preparing for her next shift. “Here’s a list of incoming patients,” the woman placed an iPad in front of the doctor. “We’ve got PAs covering the minor cases, but there’s no one else to handle the big stuff. You wanna go ahead and get a head start this evening?“

“Yeah, sure.” Barbara said, biting her lip as she gave one last longing look at her phone before pocketing it in her lab coat. 

“You okay?” Wanda quirked a brow. 

“Yeah, my lunch date was a no-show. Just checking to see if I had any messages.”

“I’m sure there’s a reason, “ Wanda assured. “I can’t see why anyone would want to pass up a date with _you_ .”

“Alright,” Barbara cocked a brow. “What are you buttering me up for?” 

“Dr. Jenkins sort-of called out sick again.” Wanda gave a pained smile. “Mind covering the next shift too? At least until we get someone else to come along.”

The doctor sighed, and gave Wanda a knowing look. “Alright, I’ll call Jim in a little while, and let him know I won’t be home,” she looked down at the iPad and began to scroll through the list with one finger, head poised in one curled hand. “What do we got here? Asthma attack, dehydration, drug overdose, dehydration again, chest pain...multiple trauma suspect?” She blinked at the screen. “Walter Strickler?” 

Her eyes were wide when they looked back to Wanda, already she was pushing the chair away to stand. “That’s my date!” she proclaimed, and went flying out the door.

***

Yellow gown on over her scrubs, mask covering her face, and purple gloves adorning her hands, Dr. Lake entered one of the hospitals two trauma rooms. Her nose stung from the sterilization fluids she’d used to prep her arms and hands, and her heart raced with the fear that what she was about to see of Walter Strickler would be beyond repair. There were five other people around her, waiting to assess his state, all wound up as tight as coiled, and when the doors finally opened with his gurney in tow, she and the team launched into action.

Luckily, he wasn’t nearly as bloodied-up as she imagined. 

“Walter? Walter.” She called out to him as an emergency team transferred him from gurney to trauma bed. Hovering over him, her hand went down to his, gently tapping to jar him awake. She didn’t know which bones were broken, and didn’t dare risk touching any more of him. “Mr. Strickler?”

He groaned trying to move his neck, which had been stabilized with a brace. 

“There you are,” she said, as she saw a flash of green beneath his lids. Shining a light in his eyes, she tried to gauge the size of his pupils, checking for anisocoria.* “Hey, can you tell me if you’re in any pain. Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” he mumbled, though it was evident that he was struggling to stay awake. “My arm...neck.”

“Your neck and arm? Okay, anywhere else?”

“Your eyes...” he remarked nonsensically. 

“Alright, well Michael here,” she pointed to a nurse in a yellow gown, wielding a pair pf medical scissors, “ is going to cut your shirt off and remove your belt, so just stay still. we’re gonna put some electrodes on your chest so we can get your vitals. If you feel any pain, while that’s happening let me know.”

“Mmph,” came his distant reply.

“Do you know what happened to you?”

“Goblins...” his green eyes rolled back, “wretched beasts never listen.”

”Hey, stay with me.” She tapped his hand again when his lids started to close. “We’re gonna give you a CT scan, okay?”

“Because of the car?” his voice climbed out of him, small, but present. 

A moment found him groaning--the healing process for what little damage his familiar’s body _had_ sustained was fast, but painful; something he didn’t have time to explain.

“You got hit by a car?” she asked, red brows creasing above the mask. “Were you in another vehicle? Walter?” she said as his eyes closed once more. “Walter?”

He didn’t respond.

“Ohh, not good, possible blood loss or TBI.* Run a quick ultrasound on his abdomen,” she called to a technician. “It looks like he took the majority of the impact here,” she pointed towards a large bruise forming below his rib-cage, ”Make sure there’s no immediate sign of hemorrhaging, and someone get Dr. Umberland on standby, I have a feeling we’re going to need him-- woah!” her eyes flew to three giant welts along his throat as the nurse cut the last of the turtleneck away. 

“I can’t get this needle to go in.” a nurse grumbled near his arm, “I can see the vein. His skin’s too thick. We’ll have to start the IV after the scan.”

“That’s fine,” Barbara responded. “No contrast, so we’ll save it for later.”

“Still breathing on his own; EKG is normal, oxygen normal,” someone called to her left as she gently examined his neck. “Blood pressure normal”

“We’re clear here, too,” a voice from the right sounded and she glanced to see the ultrasound technician wiping wet trails of lubricant off of his stomach. 

“Got a wallet, phone, and pen.” Michael said as he placed the mentioned items in a metal tray. “That’s all the metal I can find. He’s got a button-up fly, so the pants are good to go. I tugged them down a little, no unexpected chain-mail undies on this one.”

“Oh, snap. I remember that!” the IV nurse chimed in. 

“Thanks Michael,” she said as she looked over Walter’s body with a studied gaze, then grabbed the blanket Michael had set at the end of his bed to draw it over him. “Alright-fancy-pants, time to get a look at what’s really going on. Is Radiology ready?”

“Yep,” the technician responded from the back of the room, hands busy with prepping the ultrasound table for the next patient. “Wheel him down.” 

Stepping on a lever to disengage the break on the hospital bed, Barbara bit her lip, and watched as they wheeled her date away. She tried hard to suppress the little butterflies of worry dancing around within her chest. 

“You good, Dr. Lake?” Michael asked. 

“Yeah,” she said, ripping her gloves and mask off and tossing them in a sanitary bin before picking up the iPad on a nearby counter. “Alright,” a hand rose to adjust her glasses. Her voice was calm, steady, as it always had to be. “Who’s next?”

***

“Well, _someone’s_ been eating their Wheaties,” Barbara said, thirty minutes and two patients later as she looked over Walter’s preliminary scans on a computer in the middle of the hospital ward. All sorts of chatter was going on behind her, but her focus never left the screen.

“You know, you should at least take the guy out before you start combing through his insides.” Michael jeered from somewhere behind her. She turned to give him a brow just as he shoved a fist-full of candy in his mouth. 

“Wanda told you, huh?”

“I kind of tricked it out of her.” He spoke through a mouthful before swallowing. “You looked so worried about the guy! I could tell it was personal.” 

“Alright, you caught me.” She turned back around, scrolling over the finer details of the scans.

“Hmm, nice vescicles,” Michael waggled his brows as he moved closer to the screen. 

“Stop it,” she chided, waving him off. 

“Hey, I’m just here to warn you that if you don’t try to snatch him up, I will. I’m totally down to enter the den of the silver fox, if you know what I mean.” 

“And ruin the only promising date I’ve had in eons?” She gasped mockingly. “You’d never.”

“I would! You give me way too much credit, Doc.”

“Yeah, with all the favors you’ve done for me in the past, I don’t think so.” 

The pager pinned along the hem of his scrubs sounded off, and he looked down. “Ah, Room 8 calls. Fall risk. I’ll bet you two dollars he dropped his tray again trying to get more food. Guys a master.”

“You’re on.”

***

“Okay” Barbara waltzed into Water’s hospital room a few minutes later, drawing the curtains behind her. He was sitting up and looking up towards a muted T.V., monitor lines and leads poking out of his gown-covered chest to the patient monitor and IV bag behind his head. A white blanket covered his lower half, pooling conservatively around his waist. Slowly, his emerald gaze turned to meet hers.

“I checked over your CT results, and everything looks intact,” she said, setting a clipboard along the nearest counter. “We’re waiting for a final report from radiology--often they spot things we can’t--but I’m fairly confident that this is something you’ll make a full recovery from in a week or so. A lot of your pain is from thousands of small tears in the muscle tissue from when your body braced for impact. You must have seen it coming. You arm is a little swollen, so that’s sprained, and you’ve got some really big welts on your neck,” she gestured towards the area with her pen. “Now _those_ are a bit of a mystery.”

“Hhmph,” was all she heard him utter.

“My best guess is that you might have had a reaction to something in the neck brace. That, or you got mauled by a bear.” She laughed to herself, though he did not return the humor. “Given all of that, I ordered you a pretty strong muscle relaxer which...looks like it’s kicking in right now, actually,” she said towards his dazed expression, the reason for his dulled reactions dawning on her. He rubbed at an eye with his fist, like a Jim used to when he was little, blinking rapidly as he fought against the haze of drowsiness the medication brought. “You’re not going to remember any of this, are you?”

Walter’s head drooped as he began to nod off.

“Why don’t you lie back?” she said as she drew closer, a hand falling on his shoulder to guide him down. Her nails were trim, short, unpainted, typical of any individual in her profession, he eyes them strangely as she pushed him back, but obeyed orders. 

Once he was settled, she looked past the gown and towards the marks on his neck with concern, a hum betraying her curiosity. The monitor beeped in annoyance from the back of the bed, startling her reverie as it warned that it could no longer read his blood pressure. Blue eyes roamed to discover that the cuff had fallen down to his elbow. The last nurse hadn’t been here for a while, she surmised. As always, they were understaffed for the night. Given the small size of the room, she had to reach over him to adjust his cuff. He moaned a little as he felt the pressure.

“You smell like candy” his sleep-laden voice came from somewhere beneath her lab coat, and she pulled back a little, peering down to see him smiling as he inhaled deeply. 

Snorting, she re-clipped pulse oximeter along his fingertip, and checked the monitor, giving it a satisfactory nod. “Thanks, I guess?”

His head lolled, green eyes blinking dreamily up at her before they closed in serenity. “I want to eat you.” 

That one sent a hand flying up to her mouth to suppress a laugh. A choking noise escaped her instead.

“--but then I’d have to go to the dentist,” he slurred with a frown. 

Another chuckle, bell-like, as the line of her lip canted upward. “You scared of the dentist, Mr. Strickler?”

He responded with a snore, though presently, he started to moan. 

“Noo,” he babbled in his sleep, “El Demonio Rojo.”

“Who?” Barbara tried to see if he would respond.

“That wrestler,” the crease between his brows darkened. “He’s coming for my teeth.”

Barbara came to sit at his bedside, expression both besotted and amused. 

“Don’t let him get me. I don’t want a root canal.”

An attempt was made to reach out for his hand, but she froze in hesitation. It wasn’t exactly up to hospital code, but they _were_ seeing each other in a romantic sense and, well, he looked so worried….

“He’s not going to get you,” she took his hand in hers, squeezing it. 

“Oh, what if he nicks my other teeth?”

“ _Other teeth?_ ”

“The long ones, in my other form. He’ll hang them up like trophies.”

Her hand migrated from his grasp to brush against his forehead, sweeping away the stray hairs that had popped out of his quiff in the fray. 

This seemed to calm him, and he moved to nuzzle his cheek into the caress, breath steady against her palm. They hadn’t really been this close yet, and it made her heart skip a beat. She stayed still for a while, until he fully settled into a deeper slumber. 

“Okay,” She whispered as she patted his chest. “I’m gonna check back in with you in another hour.”

***

Four hours later, she _finally_ made it back to Walter’s room, gingerly balancing two paper cups of coffee with plastic lids as she wove her way past the glass-lined door. Beneath her armpit, a rolled ball of cloth poked out. He was still asleep, snoring ever-so-slightly as she placed the cups and roleld cloth on the counter, an then drew the curtain around for privacy.

Grabbing the clipboard at the end of his bed, she looked over the final results of his CT scan. Nothing major to report: evidence of extra bone tissue near his shoulder blades, a thickened dermal layer, a slightly enlarged spleen. The latter was expected, considering where he’d been hit, but overall his results were incredible. 

“Mmm,” she heard him moan faintly, green eyes fluttering open to gaze at her. Though peaceful at first, his pupils shrank to pinpoints as realization dawned. “Oh no, how did I get here?” 

“According to the triage nurses, some guy picked you up and carried you here from a couple of blocks away.” Setting the clipboard down, she came to stand at his side. “That isn’t the best idea for a trauma victim, because you can further someone’s injuries that way, or even paralyze them, but I guess his heart was in the right place. Lucky for you, there wasn’t anything major to worry about. It’s almost unbelievable for car accident.”

“How did you know it was a car?”

“Well, you were kind of talking in your sleep.”

“Oh dear...”

“No, it was cute,” she laughed, tucking a strand self-consciously behind her ear as she moved to grab the two coffee cups and the cloth she’d left on the counter earlier. “You went on and on about some wrestler trying to steal your teeth.”

“Cute you say?” his brows went devilish, and he took one of the cups with relish. “Why doctor, are you flirting with a patient? I am certain that is against the rules of the physician’s playbook.”

“Uh-huh, and flirting with your student’s mom is sooo kosher.” She sat against the edge of his bed. 

“She wounds me,” he gripped his chest. “Oh, the pain.”

“Yeah, I checked you heart. It’s fine.” A lithe hand patted him as she teased. “Oh wait, hold on,” a hand dug into the pocket of her lab coat. “Here’s your phone. And your belt,” She swore she could feel herself blushing as she handed him the items. “Whoops, that’s my phone, gimme a sec,” reaching into the other pocket, she switched them out. “Someone named Fragwa called a little while ago. I didn’t mean to look, but it sort of started ringing when I picked it up.”

“Not an issue at all, Doctor. Fragwa--” he shot a momentary scowl as he sipped his coffee, “--is a distant cousin. Probably just called to catch up. We chat every other week or so.”

“Wow,” she remarked. “My own brother doesn’t even call me that often. You must come from a pretty close-knit family.”

“Sometimes a little too close,” he admonished, buried in a sea of half-truths. “I feel like I’m being suffocated.”

“I guess there are two sides to that coin. And speaking of feelings, how do you feel _now_?”

“Remarkably better, now that you’re here,” he took her hand, placing a kiss atop it. 

“Really, Walter,” she chided, though she was gushing inside. “I need to know if you’re okay.”

“I’m still a bit drowsy," he spoke honestly. patting her hand before letting it drift away, "but aside from my arm and a mild headache there’s no pain. I’ve had trouble with that arm for some time. It’s an old injury.”

“Hmm, we gave you a pretty strong dose of muscle relaxer--you’re a lot heavier than you look--so that’s why you’re sleepy. It should wear off in a couple of hours. The headache is because you have a small concussion, so I’ll order you some acetominophen. No NSAIDs, because they can cause extra bleeding. I’d like to keep you here for another thirty minutes, just in case, but after that you’ll be ready for discharge. Which reminds me,” she grabbed the rolled up cloth, which she’d set at the end of his bed, “I got you a shirt from the gift shop.” A laugh escaped her as she unraveled the light-blue t-shirt, which was adorned with an “A.H.” Arcadia Hospital logo and the slogan “your life in good hands.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have.”

“Well, I don’t know if you remember, but we had to cut your shirt and jacket off,” she said, blue eyes apologetic. “I don’t exactly peg you as a t-shirt guy, but it beats walking out bare-chested and covered in electrodes. I’m sorry if the other clothes meant something to you.”

“Ah, plenty where those came from,” he waved the idea off. “Truly, I thank you; and on the subject of wearing t-shirts, you’ll find that I am quite adaptive.”

“Do you have anyone who can pick you up, by the way?” Her voice was calm, but curious. “I’d offer myself, but I don’t get off for at least five more hours. What about that Ms. Nomura at the museum?”

“She’s out of town, I’m afraid.”

“Does Fragwa live close?”

“Er, no.” He was not about to trifle with the goblins at the moment. For all he knew, they had driven his car into a cave, and were happily dancing around the engine’s flames. “Not at all.”

“Hmm, I’m sure we could get you an Uber, but I’d feel better if it was someone who could hang around for a while. And not to grill you, but where’s your car? Did you walk to town?”

“Well,” his fingers curled around the edges of the blanket (this one wasn’t entirely a lie), “I don’t know where it is. I left it at the dentist, but it must have been towed by now.”

“In the span of a few hours?”

Clearing his throat, he shot her an apologetic look. “That office has a very strict policy. No overnight parking. Too many problems in the past.” He remarked. “But I’m certain I can find out tomorrow. I don’t mind walking back, I’ll be fine.”

“Oh no, mister, I am _not_ letting you walk out that door in this state. Look I’m supposed to be covering someones shift, but let me see if I can get someone else to take over...”

“Or...I could wait,” he said before she could rise. 

“Wait? Walt, that’s a long time. It’ll be 5 A.M.”

“My insurance bills by the day, and it’ll be midnight before the paperwork gets turned over. I might as well, and I certainly don’t mind a break from it all. We could go the that 24-hour diner afterward. I’d like to repay you for the excellent care.”

A chuckle escaped her. “It’s my job, Walt. And you should focus on resting, not treating me to food. I’d recommend staying in from work tomorrow.”

“Still, I’d feel less guilty over missing our date. Can you really say no to an all-star breakfast? ”

Her lips canted. “No, but at that point I’ll either be wired on caffeine or dosing off in my waffles. You really want to see that side of me?”

“Eager to,” he didn’t hesitate. “But perhaps I could order it to-go. I’d hate to keep you from your bed.”

Something mischievous crossed over her features, no doubt some witty quip, but whatever it was, she kept it bottled in.

“We’ll see when we get there,” she finally pulled back the lid on her coffee and took a sip. “For now, since I’m about to go on my fifteen, and we _we’re_ supposed to have coffee earlier.” The blanket shifted as she scooted closer. “How ‘bout we have that date right here?”

“I can think of nothing more therapeutic,” he said, and smiled warmly into his next sip.

**Author's Note:**

> *anisocoria – When the pupil in one eye differs from the size of the other; often a sign of brain injury.  
> *TBI – Traumatic Brain Injury


End file.
